One Time
by Krazee Kaz
Summary: An alternative ending for Joe, Dan and Sicknote.


**LONDON'S BURNING**

**One Time**

There had been an eerie silence amongst the Watch during lunch in the mess. A total re-build of the station had done very little to lighten the mood. But these kind of silences were getting few and far between now. At least that was something.

Maggie was upset. She turned away, slightly embarrassed at him seeing her cry into the crumbling tissue she held in a fist. He held her to comfort her, she enjoyed the moment but had then pulled away again. It hadn't led to anything else and probably never would. She was married, he'd never really felt close to anyone since his wife died, had never wanted to.

People ran away from death. As soon as he'd mention it to anyone he'd maybe have half a chance of getting close to then they were off. But Maggie was different, she understood. Well, she seemed to. Maybe it was time to move on. Or maybe he should keep well away. She was embarrassed around him, almost like a school girl with a teenage crush. But it would be nice to be young again. Nice to have the chance to do things that so many other people couldn't, maybe things he himself had missed out on. Things that two people he knew may never do. Things that maybe he shouldn't be thinking about, not in these circumstances anyway.

* * *

Dan spooned another bowl of Cornflakes. His mother sat at the table opposite with a cup of tea. Was she ready to give him yet another lecture? She was always full of lectures about what he should and shouldn't do. But just recently she hadn't said much, which usually meant she was preparing for some big showdown, and that usually meant trouble. Now it seemed she was ready to start.

"That money's still there..."

"Don't start" he cut her off knowing what would come next.

"I wasn't going to say anything. There are no conditions, not anymore."

He frowned at her sudden change of heart. She'd wanted to buy him off so that he'd leave his job. But it was important to him. Although recently he'd started to wonder. Was he doing it for him, or for his father? Would his father have been proud if he saw him now? His mother had always said Dad would have been proud of whatever Daniel had decided to do with his life.

He thought now that maybe she was right. He'd tried putting himself in her position. She'd lost her husband in the Fire Brigade and had almost lost her son too. He couldn't begin to imagine what that must feel like. Had he been selfish before? Or was she the one being selfish and not letting him do what he wanted? He didn't know.

He had always wanted the same respect as his father had had. But he'd never felt that he'd really got it. It was the sort of thing that either you had or you didn't. He'd decided he was one of those who didn't and had taken a step down from Leading Firefighter. Perhaps his next step would be off the ladder all together.

His mother, for a change, wasn't pushing it. She only cared about him, he realised, but it did bug him the way she tried to run his life. She thought she knew what was best for him. They'd always argued over that. Perhaps she did know what was best, but wasn't that up to him to find out for himself?

He thought about the future. He'd always wanted to travel. His father would have been proud of that, not being a well travelled person himself. But it was a big decision. If he discussed it with his mother, she'd only try to make sure he chose the travelling option. Probably safer in her eyes.

He put the empty bowl in the sink without bothering to wash it. Then he went to sit on the sofa and watched some boring morning TV. But couldn't really pay much attention to it with all the thoughts floating round in his mind.

"I'm just saying think about it, that's all," his mother made herself busy in his kitchen.

He didn't bother arguing with her. She knew it was a decision which he had to make himself, and he knew her feelings. There wasn't much they could say to each other.

"I know that we don't agree on some things" she was saying. She took a deep breath. "Whatever you decide I'll always be here for you, I am your mother."

She had a duty. Maybe one he was sometimes better off without. He knew what he should do but it wasn't what he wanted to do. His father had always said follow your heart, or something to that effect. He'd often come out with wise things like that.

The clouds soon cleared to reveal a clear blue backdrop, a shade of blue darker than the sky, and one which sparkled and danced under the orange glare of a dull evening sun. He knew what he was going to do.

* * *

"I nearly lost you," they held each other close. He closed his eyes, glad to have her so near.

"And I nearly lost you."

They hugged, until he had an idea and broke free, working up a sudden excitement.

"Let's elope!"

His girlfriend smiled but wasn't sure. "_What_?"

He became more serious, more determined. "I mean it."

"But, Joe, we can't," she tried to think of the practical sides. "What about the Brigade?"

"Stuff them."

She liked his impulsive nature.

He took her hand without waiting for an answer. "Come on."

She stopped him. "You really do mean this don't you?"

He looked her straight in the eyes. "Sal, I've never been more serious. Well, not since I was down on one knee."

He took a box from his pocket. "Diamonds did you say?" he gave her the box.

He'd remembered after all this time. After everything that had happened.

"Let's get married, right now. I don't care what the Brigade think, I love you Sal, and they're not going to come between us. Not again."

She was touched by his romantic speech, or what passed as a romantic speech for Joe. The gold ring inside the box was beautifully laced with diamonds. It had an expensive look, and feel, as she slipped it over her finger with ease.

"I nicked one of your other rings to get the size," he grinned. "I hope you don't mind."

She didn't. She smiled. "Where's the honeymoon then?"

He hugged her, then took her hand again.

* * *

Almost twenty five years in the same job, and what did he have to show for it? The scars and bruises from the immense strain which he had placed his body under, and the medal which lay gallantly in its presentation box, sitting on the table in front of him. A sign that he was ageing more than anything else.

Many times in the past he'd tried skiving for light duties, mostly with good reason! But only Station Officer Tate had ever let him get away with that though. With most of his years spent as part of Blue Watch at Blackwall fire station, Bert Quigley had seen more than his fair share of bad times, good times, Station Officers, station re-fits, flashy new Brigade uniforms, and the influx of young people rising up through the ranks. Firefighting was very much a younger man's game.

Station Officer Tate had retired long since, and even Blue Watch's latest boss, John Coleman was close to retiring. Everyone got older as the world went round. Bayleaf had realised the same thing five years earlier. Perhaps he'd been right to get out when he did...

He'd seen so much young life wasted too. There was Ethnic, who'd been killed during a riot back in the eighties, and Vaseline who was involved in an accident which shouldn't have happened. But it did. Even a close friend of his had been unlucky one night. Soon good luck ran out, it was probably best to run out before it did. If that was at all possible.

Nick Georgiadis had taken some getting used to when he'd first arrived at Blackwall as Tate's replacement. The two Station Officers couldn't have been more different, yet they'd both led an efficient team. Nick had some good quality leadership skills, he would have gone far, nothing was going to stop him from reaching the top. Except death. Unforeseen circumstances.

He looked over Nick's achievements and then compared them to his own. He was still at the bottom of the ladder, and that wasn't a fireman's ladder, which was where he was supposed to be.

"Sicknote!"

He looked round and realised that these thoughts had been playing on his mind for a while now.

Station Officer Coleman wasn't happy at having to repeat himself. Automatically Bert prepared to carry out the order, then it occurred to him that he didn't know what it was. But it didn't matter now.

"What _is_ up with you!" Hyper had it in hand.

Leading Hand that is. Sicknote shrugged.

Someone else with his boots firmly placed on the ladder.

He sighed and looked up at the burning building. It was only some kind of disused storage place. Judging by the condition of the flaking bricks and windowless frame work, nobody wanted it anymore. It had been left to rot, it's middle floor now burning brightly as orange flames danced around inside. Why were they bothering even trying to save it?

The Brigade itself had come along way during his service. New techniques had materialsied, new equipment had been invented, and new uniforms had been designed - which hadn't done much for his skin apart from anything else! And there had been countless lucky escapes for him and the Watch, and some unlucky escapes. But at least they'd got away with their lives. Only just though.

Perhaps it was time to relax and enjoy life, allowing the men with the black van only to carry him off when he was good and ready. And not before. His wife, Jean, would be relieved at the decision which he'd shortly be arriving at, she'd try not to show how much though. She'd be able to have her husband back for a start, he wouldn't be living on Planet X, as he had been doing for the past few weeks.

The recent shout at the fireworks factory had been too close for comfort. The last straw in fact. Another lucky escape, and a miracle no-one had been killed. More unforeseen circumstances. Life, in fact, was full of them. He knew what he was going to do. And the way he was feeling at the moment, the sooner he did it, the better.


End file.
